Rōnin
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Rōnin. A samurai with no lord or master. And as Zeratul discovered, he wasn't the only one.


**Rōnin**

They called it the Hall of Storms.

Heroes were summoned here for battle. Heroes disembarked from here to do battle. Battles were fought for no good reason. So even as the so-called heroes went to one of their petty conflicts, even as Zeratul could hear the voice of the Raven Lord demanding tribute, he ignored it. Even the presence of his doppelgangers. Dark Templar Zeratul. High Templar Zeratul. Supposedly just like himself. Supposedly taken from one of the many universes tied to the Nexus. Supposedly…the Nerazim lowered his gaze as he continued walking. Suppose nothing, he told himself. He'd paid the price for supposition once, and it had cost him dearly.

The rōnin reached the portal, one of many that dominated the world. He remembered when he'd first entered here, when Uther had greeted him. When he had taken part in his little game in the Raven Court. When he had then vanished to search for a way back to his own reality. To take vengeance on the Lenassa. To avenge his lord.

"Still searching?"

Zeratul ignored the thought-stream. He knew it well. And knew that even as he ignored it, the speaker would not go away.

"Perhaps you should accept Nexus as your home. As I did."

_When you betrayed your people._

_Never. I saved them._

Zeratul's eyes flickered in response to the thought-spike. He turned them to the sender.

"You are troubled."

And turned away. There were many versions of the protoss called Tassadar in this realm. And apart from Tassadar Prime, Pharaoh Ta-saddar II tended to have the greatest penchant for speaking the obvious. And not taking the hint when one wanted to be alone.

Yet even so, Zeratul kept staring. Looking for a sign of his own world, his own reality. Yet the portal's cycle continued – most of the locations were those already in the world of Nexus, and most of them were areas in which battles took place – Blackheart's Bay, Dragon Shire, etc. Every so often he would get a glimpse of a different location.

"Ah, Luxoria," he heard the pharaoh intone. "Still standing."

The rōnin remained silent as he briefly saw the glimpse of pyramids, standing tall under the sun. Luxoria. Saved from the Scarab Swarm and made a part of Nexus. Its pharaoh forced to do battle in exchange for his people's continued presence. The Scarab Swarm stuck in the Darkworld. And his hatred for them being channelled against Anub'arak.

_Can you blame me?_

Zeratul still remained silent. Some of his counterparts had greater ability in masking their thoughts than he did. But he was a rōnin. His physical mask was the only one he usually wore. And when he found the Lenassa that killed his master, he wanted them reading his thoughts. He wanted them to sense, _feel _his anguish.

_As do I. But I may help._

And the rōnin turned to Ta-saddar as he waved a hand over the portal. He watched as the images changed. New worlds. New realities.

"How?" he asked.

"I brought Luxoria to this world," the pharaoh said. "I have experience in shifting through the course of realities."

"And you can find my own?"

"Perhaps. But only you will know it. And only you can decide to return."

The rōnin nodded and watched the images change. Watched and waited.

He saw the world of Azeroth – four continents, two large, two small, a maelstrom in its centre. He saw Sanctuary, a single landmass surrounded by endless sea, above Hell and below Heaven. He saw Korhal, an irradiated wasteland surrounded by a sea of stars. Many heroes hailed from these worlds, these realities. But not him. And to his thanks, Ta-saddar kept searching.

_You're welcome._

The images changed again, and he saw smaller, more obscure worlds. He saw Androth, a dying world, with the grag'ohr warring over its remaining resources. He saw Earth – a world in many realities, but only in this one home to Vikings, dragons, and green space aliens. He saw an ice world called Valhalla where one like those Vikings was present – one of many that were host to various races.

_And yet my home eludes me._

_So keep searching I shall._

The worlds were getting smaller, more obscure. He saw a world of myth, of cities underwater and temples in jungles. He saw zeppelins moving their way through a tormented sky. He saw a world laid low like Korhal had, saw adventurers battling demons as if that Tychus fool had fallen into Sanctuary. He saw creatures of the night wielding weapons of the Koprulu sector. He saw-

_A rōnin._

It was Ta-saddar's thought, not his own.

_There._

Zeratul watched, and beheld the image. A single image, of some creature pierced by arrows. It reminded him of a cross between a turtle and ghoul.

_The work of Arthas?_

_This is far removed from Azeroth, or any world._

Zeratul kept watching.

_Speak! _the pharaoh shouted into his mind. _The portal weakens! Is this your world?!_

Zeratul kept watching. A ghoul rōnin pierced by arrows. A field of grass. That was so little to go on. For a moment, he reached out. For a moment, he considered taking the risk. For a moment…but then, the moment ended. The portal closed. And Ta-saddar fell to his hands and knees as a result. Exhausted.

"Was it your world?" Ta-saddar asked, even as he knelt in rest, his hands pressed to the ground.

Zeratul remained silent in voice. But the pharaoh could read his mind. He would know the answer, of that there was no answer. And he could not take that chance.

"Be warned then," Ta-saddar said as he rose to his feet. "I can only help you so much. And the lords of Nexus would not take kindly to your leaving, or me abetting it."

"I will leave one day regardless of what anyone thinks."

"Take heed from the vision," the pharaoh said. "A dying rōnin, struck down. In Nexus, you are safe from that, at least. So long as you battle for tribute."

"I battle to avenge my master. Others do not concern me."

"You speak truly," the pharaoh said, bowing slightly. "But without conviction."

And with that he walked off. Or rather glided. All the Tassadars seemed to do that for some reason.

Conviction, Zeratul reflected. He had spoken without conviction, but what of it? There was no need for conviction in this world. It was a vacuum, one that was sucking out his resolve to escape from it. But still, the image of the rōnin filled his mind. Fallen. Forgotten. Like he felt destined to be.

The rōnin kept watching the portal, watching as the realms of Nexus re-appeared.

He remained watching for a long time.

* * *

_A/N_

_Admittedly no real chance of one of Blizzard's canceled games having a presence in _Heroes of the Storm_, but with currently only 6 IPs to draw from, and so far only confirmed to use 3 of them, I'm in the mindset of "the more the merrier." Granted, that's usually my default mindset in these things, but...well, go figure._


End file.
